


Here We Slumber.

by ShrimpZilla



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 18:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4402379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrimpZilla/pseuds/ShrimpZilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is the Warden that Hawke gets to help the Inquisition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> written for dragon age kink meme.

_Dear Inquisitor,_

_This may be a little presumptuous of me, but I’ve taken the liberty of making a list of the members of your inner circle who I don’t think my warden friend would appreciate meeting._

_The Seeker, The First Enchanter, The Qunari Merc,_

_You know what, here’s the shorter way to do this. Just bring Varric, the ‘Vint, and the other warden._

_All my love,_

_You Know Who._

 

///

  
There was a part of Trevelyan that dreaded whatever person was at the end of this cavern. In her heart she had been letting grow the idea that this mysterious Gray Warden contact could be the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden-Queen Cousland.

Trevelyan was fond of meeting heroes and after listening to King Alistair talk to no end about the wonder of his missing wife there was no one Trevelyan was more inclined to meet. Plus the romantic part of her trembled at the notion that she might be able to reunite the lovers, or at the very least provide some word to the distraught king about his love’s status. Surely Josephine would applaud such keen political maneuvers on her part. Though Trevelyan supposed the maneuvers were mostly Hawke’s. Still, King Alistair would consider himself quite in debt to the Inquisition if they could give him any news of the Queen. She bit her lip and tried not to make it obvious that she was walking more briskly than usual.

“Is it that guy Stroud?” Varric asked.

“Who?” Hawke responded innocently. Or rather as innocently as she was able to seem. Trevelyan wasn’t convinced by it and Varric seemed even less so. She could see the relief on his face to be back with his friend, bantering back nonsense, and it warmed her heart. She glanced around at Dorian and Blackwall to see if they were enjoying this display of friendship as well. Blackwall was staring down at this boots, face shrouded in a shadow of some deep thought. Dorian was gazing around disgustedly at their surroundings.

“You know: big mustache, funny accent, split his time between the Deep Roads and Kirkwall.”

“It doesn’t ring a bell,” Hawke shrugged and turned her face so that Varric could more fully see her grin. The dwarf threw up his hands with the knowledge that there would be no worming it out of Hawke. They walked in silence for a bit. Soon Trevelyan could see that they were coming to the end and the cave opened up into a larger cavern. A man stood in the center dressed in the Gray Warden uniform and with a staff strapped across his back. Trevelyan looked to Varric to see if he recognized the man.

“Blondie?” Varric said on a shocked exhale. Trevelyan blinked and turned her attention back to the Warden. He was tall and thin, gaunt really as if he had too long made a habit of missing meals. He had golden brown hair tied up in a style similar to Varric’s and similarly colored eyes that were rimmed in lines and dark shadows. He seemed a tired man, simple and ragged even as he stood there dressed in the bright blue of his armor. The only bright adornment Trevelyan could pick out was a golden hoop through on of his ears.

“This?” She questioned aloud despite herself. “This is Anders?” This was not what she had pictured when she read The Tale of the Champion. This was not the apostate healer who had stolen Hawke’s heart. Was it? Certainly Hawke’s note about being careful who she brought here made sense in hindsight.

“It’s good to see you Varric,” Anders said. Trevelyan sensed the beginnings of an uncomfortable silence brewing as the men stared at each other. She knew that Varric had mixed feelings on what Anders had done. Or rather he didn’t agree with the destruction that Anders had wrought but still cared deeply for his friend. She supposed Hawke running away from Kirkwall to hide with her lover might have driven a bit of wedge between them as well. Varric was very defensive of Kirkwall and Hawke.

“Varric owes you money,” Hawke chimed in, perhaps always sensing the weight of the silence. Some of the tension from Varric’s shoulders disappeared and Trevelyan nearly sighed with relief. They didn’t need whatever posturing might have been about happen. They had bigger things to handle.

“Bullshit,” Varric said but there was a trace of good humor in his voice. Trevelyan looked over her shoulder at Dorian and Blackwall. Only the other mage was paying any attention and he rolled his eyes at her when he noticed her looking. She wondered if Blackwall was upset by Anders’ presence. According to Varric’s tale he had run away from the Wardens, something that was generally frowned upon very heavily and with pain of death.

“Are you sure it isn’t the other way around, love?” Anders asked lightly. Hawke crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. She had her shoulders straight and her posture insistent. Trevelyan could see the larger than life figure from Varric’s book more than when they had had their clandestine meeting at Skyhold. She watched some of the world-weariness smooth from Anders’ face as he looked at the Champion. His eyes were soft with a depth of affection that she had not been expecting to see in the man that blew up a Chantry. “Did he write another book about us or something?” He said. One of his hands went to the small of Hawke’s back. “A sexy one this time?” Hawke smiled and looked up into the face that, in this moment, had only eyes for her. She leaned into the gentle touch, her body swaying slightly.

“No, no, no!” Varric interrupted their moment. “You cut that out right now.” He looked at Trevelyan and the others. “If you let them go on like that they’ll do it right in front of us.”

“I was wondering how you were privy to a couple of those scenes in your book…” Dorian drawled. Trevelyan laughed even though she was grateful that she didn’t have to stop them herself. Hawke leaned into Anders who moved his arm to around her shoulder, dropping a small kiss to the top of her head in lieu of anything truly scandalous.

“The Inquisitor’s a mage,” she said as if that explained everything rather than simply adding one more level of uncertainty to the conversation. Despite the sheer lack of elucidation Varric seemed to suddenly find himself on the Champion’s train of thought. He slapped a hand against his forehead.

“Oh, crap. She’s right.”

“You can’t just be noticing this now, Varric?” Trevelyan joked though she desperately wanted to know what they were talking about. Joking seemed to be the language they spoke best and so she figured it was her best chance of catching on. Hawke spread her hands and looked up at the ceiling of the cave as if showing them something.

“Let me paint you a picture. We’re outside the Blooming Rose. Knight-Captain Cullen has just recruited us to interview the,” she paused and squinted as she tried to find the phrase she wanted to use, “working girls because he was far too frightened of their exposed lady bits to do it himself.” Trevelyan laughed though not nearly as heartily as Dorian. Hawke pointed a finger at Varric. “You said that it wasn’t a surprise because he had a stick with the Chant of Light carved into it shoved firmly up his ass.” Varric made a small show of being flattered by the cleverness of his own insult. “Anders responded—and I quote!—that he bet that if any of the girls were mages the Knight-Captain Curly would jump straight out of his Templar uniform for the chance to—“

“And that is, essentially, what happened. Isn’t it, Trevelyan?” Dorian cut in. The Inquisitor could feel her ears heating up. She bit her lip and ran a hand over her neck as she tried to think of something suitable to say. Anders’ mouth dropped open in surprise.

“Andraste’s sagging tits you really must be screwing the man. That’s his nervous tick, I’d recognize it anywhere.” Trevelyan cleared her throat and carefully—she didn’t want it to appear that she was doing it nervously—moved her hand to rest at her waist.

“We have serious work to do. This really is a conversation for another time.”

 

 ///

 

“I wish you hadn’t signed us up for all this,” Anders said as they prepared their camp away from the others. He felt that at any moment someone would come running to take him prisoner. Or just kill him. That was what he had wanted once. Justice for all the lives he had ruined in his crusade could only be achieved by his own death. But that had been before. Things were less clear now, more muddled. It really was as Justice had said. Hawke was the death of duty but the birth of so much more for him. He fidgeted at the discomfort his thoughts were brewing. He looked up from his sleeping bag to catch Hawke rolling her eyes at him with none of the good humor she was generally known for.

“I’d think what’s-his-face would be on board for this. I’m the one that messed up with Corypheus before.” A part of him tensed as she pretended to forget Justice’s name. He knew her well enough to know that it meant she was, essentially, looking for an argument from him. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being on edge. The world was ending and they were walking into what might be the heart of it.

“Justice isn’t the one complaining here. That’s all me.”

“Well, that’s a new one isn’t it?”

“Hawke!” He flinched at the volume in his own voice. It might not have served the conversation they were having but it had released some of his tension. He stepped over to where she was soaking a dagger in poison. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He dipped his head so that their cheeks pressed together. With one hand he tugged lightly on the lone earring she had in her ear that mirrored his own. Hawke’s idea, of course, because Isabela had accidently sailed away with their wedding rings still in her cargo. “Please,” he whispered and wondered if she could hear the desperate crack to his voice, “go home, Marian. Let me fight this battle knowing that you’re safe.”

“We do things together, Anders, and this is more my fight than yours. I won’t send you somewhere dangerous that I won’t go myself.” She dropped her dagger and he thought they would embrace, make love once more before who knew what. He kissed her on the neck. Now that the thought had crossed his mind he realized that there was nothing he wanted more in this moment. He wanted to be as close to her as he could. He wanted to hold her, touch her, to express in some small way that he could not live if he wasn’t by her side.

“Marian,” he breathed against her skin. She put her hands on his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the bones. He sat down in the dirt and pulled her onto his lap, rocked his hips against hers where they touched. They were both still in their armor but they had figured ways around that before. She kissed him hard and long, her tongue so far into his mouth it felt like choking. The fingers of one of her hands wound their way into his hair, yanking it free of the tie that held it up. The other hand was pulling on his pierced ear gently but still enough to make him moan into her mouth at the feel of it. Her touches boarded on aggressive and Anders knew she was just as panicked, just as unsure, just as scared at what Adamant would bring as he was.

Only she was brave enough not to turn tail and run. It was one of the many things he loved about her. It was what made him cling so desperately to her now. Because Marian Hawke would throw herself into the abyss without a second thought if she thought she was saving someone she cared about.

He was half hard already and as she ground herself down on him she released a throaty hum of approval. One of her teeth caught awkwardly on his lip and through the warm wash of pleasure at the pain he was almost certain he tasted blood. Hawke sucked his lip into her mouth and he thought no more about it passed the sensation of oh, yes. “Anders,” she whimpered as he pulled his face away from hers to run his teeth and tongue along her jaw. “I need you.” He thrust one of his hands between them, fingers searching for the groin of her armor. He let a light blast of lightening up and knew by the way Hawke arced off him breathlessly that he had been on target. He did it twice more and each time she gasped and pulled his ear and his hair and had his eyes rolling back. “Quick,” Hawke said, “take off your pants.” She shoved herself off his lap and began the task of unbuckling her armor at the waist. Anders stood and hiked his robes up at the waist so he could undo his belt.

“Um, I was hoping I could speak with Anders?” The voice of the Inquisitor froze them. Anders blinked, eyes on Hawke as she swiftly fell away into the calm disposition of the Champion that she had been affecting in Inquisition Company. Anders envied her the skill with which she could do that, compartmentalize to such an extreme that it hardly looked like she had just been about to ride him into the ground. Of course, he wasn’t sure if that was exactly what her plan had been, but a man could hope. “I’m not… interrupting anything, am I?” Anders looked over his shoulder, happy that he had his back to she couldn’t see his slowly fading erection or that most of his buttons were undone.

“No. I was just about to go talk with Varric. Perfect timing,” Hawke said, a swipe of her tongue across her lips the only sign Anders could tell of her sexual frustration. As subtly as he could manage he let his robes fall back into place and turned to watch Hawke leave. Her silhouette against the campfires burning into his anxiety heavy chest. We shouldn’t have been doing that out in the open anyway, he chided himself. That’s a private thing, a thing of love between us. Out here like that anyone could have come across us in the middle of it. But I needed her, his thoughts turned over on themselves, I need her still. Maker, why won’t she listen? Why won’t she go far away from this place?

“How are you feeling?” The Inquisitor asked. Anders snapped his attention to her. She was younger than he had assumed she would be, though he supposed so had all the heroes he had ever known. “Blackwall seems to be holding up against the Calling fairly well but I wanted to check.”

“I’m fine. Between the taint and Justice I’m lucky if I can hear myself think let alone any of this other nonsense,” Anders lied. Hawke barely believed him about it but the Inquisitor seemed to accept it readily enough. He was relieved. He didn’t want anyone to know the size of the headache that was consistently tearing through his skull. The cacophony of whispers raised to the volume of shouts that skittered over his brain was a near constant torture at this point. It was sheer force of will that was keeping him together. The knowledge that he had to help Hawke, that she wouldn’t rest until this was over and so neither could he. “I’m sorry,” he said when he caught the look on her face, “I suppose that’s not a very good joke. I’m a bit out of practice from spending my time primarily with Hawke. She laughs at everything.” The Inquisitor offered him a smile before looking nervously away. He watched her tug at the glove that covered her hand.

“May I see that?” He asked what he supposed was tactlessly, but the Inquisitor was gracious and nodded. She pulled the glove off and offered the hand to him. Anders took it carefully, eyes sparkling in the green light cast by the mysterious mark. “Amazing…” He muttered. Inside him he could feel Justice straining, roiling beneath his flesh. He ran his thumb over it delicately and pulled back when he felt the hairs on his arms standing up. “You wanted to speak to me about something?” He said he gestured that he was finished his brief examination. There were better minds at work on this than his. He had just wanted to see. He didn’t care about figuring out its mystery.

“Yes,” she smiled again at him. “I just wanted to say that, well, I don’t think you’re a villain like some people make you out to be. You’ve made some… interesting choices but I can see how you felt they were the ones you had to make.” She shrugged a little and fidgeted with her own staff. “I’m sure when it’s all said and done people might say the same sorts of things about me.”

“Thank you,” Anders said dumbly.

“None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you,” she continued. Anders let a dark smile across his face.

“This isn’t exactly what I meant when I said I wanted things to change.” The Inquisitor shook her head and took a step closer to him. She stopped and he thought she was torn between touching his shoulder and walking away. Hawke had been the only one to touch him in any way in a long time now. Since they’d stayed a weekend in Amaranthine with Nathaniel’s relatives at the very least. That had been back nearly at the beginning. It’s where they had fled straight after Kirkwall.

“I mean, me. I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for you. I would be sitting in a Circle Tower in Ostwick wasting away.”

“You don’t think that Andraste still would have chosen you if you hadn’t been at the Conclave?” He asked, genuinely curious. He didn’t know if he believed that she had been touched by the Maker’s bride. He didn’t know how much of that old junk he believed at all. He had been certain it was all rhetoric used to justify the treatment of mages but after that first run in with Corypheus he hadn’t been certain… Now, well, now he hardly knew what he thought at any given moment.

“I’m not sure,” she offered weakly. “I’m just… very grateful that you and Hawke are here to help. I read about you both in Varric’s book. I guess you could say I’m a little bit of a fan.” She laughed and Anders chuckled bashfully. His eyes strayed to where he could just make out Hawke and Varric’s outlines. His heart ached.

“She’s pregnant,” he whispered because keeping the words inside any longer was impossible. He wondered if she was telling Varric at this very moment. Telling her best friend. Anders had no best friend to tell only this young woman who was silly enough to believe the romantic lies of Varric’s novels. His gaze slid back to her, guilty almost for using her to clear his chest.

“Excuse me?” She stumbled. “She shouldn’t—she shouldn’t be here!”

“We just figured it out. But she won’t go back. Not now that she’s given her word and dragged me into it. If we don’t stop Corypheus there’s not much chance of having a world to raise a baby in, is there?” He was half-quoting Hawke, half-quoting the part of him he knew was Justice. The Inquisitor looked at him wide eyed with shock. Then she seemed to compose herself. Maybe he looked so absolutely distraught, so emotionally wrecked that she knew she had to. All he really knew was that he was petrified, terrified of what the battle would bring.

“Everything is going to be all right, Anders. I’ll keep an eye out for her during the battle. Hawke’s a hero. If anyone can do this and come out unscathed it’s her.” There was such a small sliver of hope for something good. Everyone else seemed able to latch onto it aside from him. He smiled sadly at the Inquisitor, wishing with all that he had that he could take her words to heart. All he could picture was the hundreds of times Hawke had stumbled to him in Dark Town, bleeding out and laughing while he worried over her. When had Hawke ever come out of anything unscathed?

Later, after the Inquisitor had left and Anders had curled up in his sleeping bag he felt Hawke press herself against his back. He hadn’t even heard her approaching which was a comfort and terror all wrapped in one. She wrapped her arms around his chest and held him, chin on his shoulder and nose in his hair. “I love you,” she whispered and Anders trembled at the words. He reached back and tangled his feet with hers, held his hands tight enough in his that it might have hurt. Before he knew it he was shaking as tears coursed silently down his face. Hawke held him, the warmth of her body the only beautiful thing in his Maker damned world. “It might not be real, right?” She said with an unsteady voice. “Wardens are usually sterile. It could just be a mistake. My bloods haven’t always been on time.”

“Let me check again? Just to be sure?”

“No. Let’s wait until after.” Anders understood the logic she wasn’t voicing. This way if something happened they could say it had been a mistake all along. An irregular moon blood and Anders sensing what he wanted more than anything to sense. “Everything’s going to be fine, Anders, you worry too much,” she soothed. He took a steadying breath and rolled over so that he could kiss her forehead and nose and mouth and neck. He dipped lower too, kept going until he was drowning himself in the smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her. Her thighs clamped around his ears and her fingers scratching through his hair. He peered up at her while he sucked on her clit, feeling wave after wave of pressure roll off her eager muscles. It was only after her body shivered out its orgasm that he brought himself onto his arms and thrust slowly into her.

They made love, and Anders knew that there was truly no better term for what they did. Each breath she exhaled he took into his own body until he was lightheaded and giddy from their closeness. This was the insatiable neediness that Justice had frowned upon, the unquenchable thirst for all things Hawke that he had known would be a distraction. “I love you, Anders,” she shuddered into his mouth and the sound of it coaxed his orgasm from him. He rolled onto his back and Hawke law against him, her hand playing with the sparse hair that dotted his chest. He ran a hand up and down her side, cupping her breast and hip in turn. His hand paused near her stomach and he reached out with the same sense that made him a healer, he felt for the pulse of life growing and building within her. Hawke might not have wanted to know for certain but he needed to.

“I love you too, Marian,” he whispered as more tears pooled in his eyelashes.

///

“How do we get by?” Justice asked as the Nightmare reared in front of them. Hawke thought of all the ugly monster that she had fought over the years this one was the second ugliest. She still gagged at the thought of what Orisino had become at the end of that whole mess. The Inquisitor looked around but Hawke already knew the answer. She grit her teeth and tried her best to put on a brave face.

“Go. I’ll cover you.” She tried to ignore the look of heartbreak that should have been on Anders’ face but wasn’t. It was easier to focus on the Inquisitor though she looked properly devastated herself at Hawke’s utterance. Justice himself never really was one for more than a grim stoicism when it came to facial expressions, though she had seen rage and blind fury a few times as well. She should be grateful that hadn’t been his response to her.

“No,” Justice stated. She could almost hear Anders’ own voice beneath the crackle and hum of the spirit’s. She imagined him sounding bleak, pleading with her. “You were right. The Wardens caused this mess. A Warden must—“ Hawke fought the urge to laugh. This had to be her end if Justice was standing here telling her she was right. Sure, it was about something that there really couldn’t have been much argument over. But still! Hawke could always pretend he was saying that she was right for any of the multiple other things he had disagreed with her on over their years together.

“A Warden must help them rebuild!” She countered, knowing that she was lucky in this moment that it was Justice she had to argue with rather than Anders. At least she stood the chance of convincing the spirit. “That’s your job! That’s your duty!” She pressed a finger to Anders’ chest, hoping that it wasn’t an obvious excuse to touch him just one last time. Even if it wasn’t Anders looking out at her it was still—mostly—his body, the body she had pined for and finally had, the body that had held her and healed her, the body she had lain with as husband and wife.

The Inquisitor was merely watching them, stunned into silence by the situation. Hawke didn’t blame her. It was strange to see Justice swallow Anders like this. It was even stranger to be talking about which one of them would be left behind to die. “Corypheus is mine.” She pulled her hand back, doing her best to ignore the way her heart was half shuddering and half shattering, and turned her attention to the thing that was blocking their route. Justice reached a hand out and gripped her hand in his. “Justice?” Hawke couldn’t stop herself from muttering.

“It is our job to protect you. Anders would not forgive me if I allowed you do this.” He paused and Hawke saw something like hesitance wriggle across his crackling face. “I would not forgive myself. You do not deserve to be left to die in the Fade. It would be an injustice to rob you of our life when we are more than ready to sacrifice ourselves.” Hawke couldn’t ignore the shifting pronouns, the knowledge that Justice and Anders were of one mind on this matter.

“I can’t live without you,” she said, taking Justice’s hand into her properly so that their fingers twined and she could feel the cool static of his energy beneath her fingernails. “I’d rather die than let another person I love down.”

“You have always risen far above my expectations. No, this would not be you letting us down.” Justice looked from her face to her stomach and Hawke felt the urge to vomit at what that simple look hammered home for her. She bridged the gap between their bodies and held his face with her free hand. “You have done much for us. We have been living on gifted time since you spared us for our crimes. This is our fate.” She was crying now, loudly and horribly. “Marian, please.” This was Anders’ voice and she collapsed against his body when she heard it. His arms came around her, bringing her against the warmth of his body and the frightened thudding of his heart. Justice had stepped aside for this moment, this farewell. “Marian.” She could hear Anders crying too. “Please, please make sure live and are happy. Promise me, Marian, promise me you’ll be happy.”

Her heart felt like it was filled with hot poison or sharp glass or something alive and clawing its way out. She tried to speak but couldn’t. Her throat was closed with tears and grief. She pressed her face against Anders’ chest until she felt the press of his armored Warden’s robe. Hawke lifted her face to look up into his. He tried to smile but it was a weak and watery thing, his eyes shining with tears and the hidden spark of Justice’s lurking presence. “Anders,” she managed weakly. He kissed the tears from her eyes but more took their place. He reached up and removed the earring from his ear. She nodded and closed her eyes as he pressed it through the flesh of her lobe, next to the one she already wore for him. “I love you, Anders,” she sobbed. He held her again for a moment though she could feel him looking over her shoulder to where the Inquisitor could only wait for so long. He went to step away and she clung to him, no longer caring about her reputation or how pathetic she might seem. “I can’t leave you. I can’t!” She insisted.

“Inquisitor, please,” Anders asked. Hawke wheeled around as the other woman grabbed her arms and yanked her from her place against Anders. She tore herself away only to be grabbed again and half dragged closer to the Nightmare. Hawke snarled and threw her weight against the Inquisitor, making them topple to the unstable floor.

“Please, Hawke, stop!” The Inquisitor shouted as she threw herself at Hawke’s legs. “We have to leave. Don’t make his sacrifice be for nothing!” Hawke kicked herself free, landing one of her heels square across the mage’s chin. She lifted herself up in time to see Anders casting a wall of fire against the demon combatting them. He looked towards her with aching eyes, casting spells wildly as he came to stand before them. The Inquisitor was just rising to her feet now.

“Anders,” Hawke started before she could she couldn’t move. Anders pressed a kiss to her forehead and lowered his mouth to her ear to whisper a final farewell before he charged the Nightmare. His body was awash in electric blue light. Behind her the Inquisitor grabbed her again and shoved her towards the exit. Hawke’s feet stumbled deadly, numb from the hex that Anders had used against her in the end. She kept her eyes trained squarely on him, hungry for every glimpse she could manage to get before it was all over and he was just another person she had failed and lost.

///

Varric rushed over when he saw the Inquisitor and Hawke appear from the rift. Hawke stumbled away from the Inquisition soldiers who were cheering them. She fell to her knees and started retching. Varric held her shoulders and looked around with concern. He started to ask where Blondie is but judging by the way Hawke was heaving, choking on her own tears, and the Inquisitor was pointedly not looking over the dwarf was able to connect the dots. He pushed down the wave of grief that washed over him, knowing that he would have time for that later. Now Hawke needed him.

“Hawke,” he said her name in as soothing a manner as he could. He didn’t know what he could say to her. The joke that he always knew Blondie would go out in a blaze of glory seemed too harsh, too real to be uttered. Instead he hoped just to convey that she was not alone. His voice seemed to rouse her and for a moment a sense of clarity and awareness wrested the broken sorrow that had been in her eyes. She looked at him, body calming before she started shaking all over again. Except this time she was laughing manically.

“Varric, Varric, you’ll love this,” she sputtered. He tried to ignore how heavily she was leaning on him and how high-pitched and crazed her voice seemed. “He said… The last thing he said…” She laughed harder and harder. Varric frowned. “He said don’t raise the baby in Kirkwall!” Her laughter slowly made way for more tears and soon she wasn’t leaning against him but clutching desperately to him and sobbing into his shoulder.


End file.
